From Windows, City Streets

By Joan M. Steele

There are those of us like myself who are impatient, who cannot wait to find out what happens. We skim, we skip with the long three hundred plus novel pages. We can't stay up all night! For us the Short Story is ideal. It tells us all immediately--the novel in capsule! We can read it anywhere, anytime in just a few minutes. From Windows, City Streets contains ten short stories right from the heart of life. Much is packed into a few pages. These are intense, emotional stories. Each: man, woman, child looms distinct, separate, catastrophe struck in their prevailing situations. Caught in the jaws of life: a lost boy from a plane wreck, a bride who believes her husband-to-be love another, a suffering mother at the murder of her toddler, a man providentially saved from a fatal motor-cycle accident, a teenager who cannot win a fight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467834551

Joan M. Steele

Joan M. Steele, born 1932, residing in her home state of Washington received her BA degree in Education in 1959, hold MA equivalent credits in English-Literature (1984). She taught grade school for sixteen years and has been employed as a Secondary Substitute Teacher for the last ten years. She has been writing Poetry and Short Stories since childhood and is a dedicated bookworm. Being a life member of Bookworms International, a Liberal Arts/English-Literature Major, living in five areas of the country-teaching in four of, allows this girl to stake her claim in the realm of pleasing the audience. Her dedication to writing began early. She just can't help putting words down on paper. Add to this her un-ending interests and her continued trust that readers will accept. Enjoy her offerings--what more do you require?

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Contents

Accepting Defeat

Bride Of Darkness

El Nino

Goldie

Human Sacrifice

Raining

The Red Dog

Skate Board

Spirited Away

Sub Rosa

Accepting Defeat

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Why is winning so important to most? I think it must be in direct proportion to the ego at a particular moment. Though some ego’s may be laid aside, there are some who have grown accustomed to the easy win, the habitual supremacy, and due to their more than average abilities are normally gratified.

The target person, of this episode, is one such. Scholastics came easy to him. When he should have excelled, he rarely did, for it would have taken that something extra that Josh just didn’t expend.

Looking back, I can understand better, now, why my brother, Josh, just never could give up with his friend, Ray. It must have been the defeat, he’d never before faced, that kept him coming back for more. He just couldn’t accept defeat. It simply wasn’t a part of his self-image.

Remembering the scenes, I can’t help laughing again as I did then. Of course, then, I had to hide it as best I could, for my big brother would never have been able to stand it.

Josh was thirteen and I was seven. He was in Eighth Grade that year and doing fine. School was always a snap for him. I was in First Grade again. I was sure I would never like school.

I surmised then, that Josh was a great person and would probably grow up to be important. I didn’t mind about this.

Seeing Josh get clobbered was a real joy. Guess that’s why it was so funny. He was so dumb. I could have told him right away that he would never beat Raymond. To begin with, Ray was bigger, taller and broader. Ray was kind-of quiet, more like me. And, I could just feel, that down-deep, nobody was going to push him or ever get the better of him even for a minute, if he could help it. But, Josh, gee, was he dumb. He never seemed to see those things at all. I think he thought because he was better in school, he was just naturally smarter and better than Raymond at everything.

I liked Raymond. Maybe I liked him cause it was so fun to see Josh lose. But, I think, mostly it was because he didn’t seem to mind not being good in school. He really was great. Couldn’t see why Josh got so mad just cause Ray was stronger than he was.

Thinking about it though, it wasn’t near that simple. Must have been the day of their first big fight when Josh came home so late from school. He was a mess—his shirt was torn, he had a hole clear through his pants at the knee and a bad bloody nose. Dad really gave it to him good. I could hear him through the sliding door. I’d heard some of it before—especially about how you couldn’t do some of the things most of the other kids did because you were a Preacher’s son. You were supposed to be setting an example. I always thought that Dad wasn’t fair about this. It seemed to me as long as nobody found out—it wouldn’t make much difference. I just couldn’t understand how God could expect us not to do all the things everyone else did.

I couldn’t see Josh, in the front parlor, but I sure knew what he’d be looking like. He’d be standing as tall as he could with a little swagger to his one shoulder and acting like he got punched out like this everyday. And no, of course, it wouldn’t happen again. And yes, he knew that they couldn’t afford to buy him a new shirt and a pair of pants. He was sure Mom could mend them.

And then when Dad asked him to tell him exactly what had happened it was a few minutes before Josh spoke. I just knew what was going to come out, now, would get him in another fix. He’d be hearing the Sermon on Lies and Liars. Why did he always try to make something up when he knew the old man would find out eventually—and then it would be even worse. I stepped closer to the crack between the doors—to hear better. Ya, I knew it—it was going to be a long story. Made me wonder if he hadn’t made it up on the way home—just in case—knowing Dad as we all did.

He was saying something about helping a girl in his class who was being teased by this Big Bully. I had to give him credit—sounded to me like it could have been like he told it.

It was having a good affect—Dad’s voice wasn’t near as loud and then he was quiet again—letting Josh tell how he had almost got the better of this kid who was a foot taller than him, but he had slipped and that’s when the Big Kid really got the better of him—right on the chin. I could hardly wait to see if Josh had made it. Dad was saying, Well if you helped the girl out. And I was sure Dad was grinning just a little at one side of his mouth and sort-of-touching Josh on the shoulder when he said, Son, what’s the girl’s name? I’ll see if I can’t talk to the Principal about it this coming Wednesday—he’ll be at the Minister’s Luncheon.

Josh’s face was changing, I was sure, and the old man was giving him that hard stare again. He’d have to talk fast or Dad would know it was a lie right now. Oh, I can’t say, she’s new in town. Lucky one!

I heard my big sister’s voice coming into the room, so I had to get away from the door fast. I’d know in a little bit, when they stepped out into the sitting-room.

I could tell by Dad’s face, Josh had put it over. Dad was still talking hard, but his eyes were smiling and Josh had his head down to hide his victory. Go and clean-up now, won’t be long till supper. I could never decide why I was happy for Josh when he won with Dad. I guess I just hated to see Dad get the better of everybody and I really enjoyed seeing my brother get away with it. I had to admit—he was smart—I wouldn’t have thought of what to say in time to save my hide.

This was only the beginning of the siege. Remembering back, I’m not sure how many fights he had with Ray, but it was sure one too many for Josh every time it happened.

Never was sure if I got a view of the third or the fourth bout. I remember, one night, he came home kind of late, looking a little shaky and he had some bad dirt marks on his pants. But my first clue to the real events came one morning. Mom asked Josh why he was wearing his old pants and that old sweater. He gave some reason or other about clean-up day for his class. Suppose it could have been, but I had this feeling that something was up. Josh was just not his good old sure of himself, self, lately—something was bothering him bad and whatever it was, he wasn’t getting the better of it.

Since, part of my way home from school, took in some of Josh’s way too, I decided I would keep a sharp look out for anything new that might be going on. So it wasn’t a real surprise, when I passed the side of the old feed store and heard scuffling noises and hard breathing. There was a patch of unkept ground between the feed store and the bicycle shop. It was a narrow strip of ground cut off from the opposite street by the back of the junk shop. The sun was brighter after 3:00 than it had been all day. I stepped off the side-walk and peered between the buildings. There was Josh puffing away trying his best to get in a good punch on Ray—anywhere, as long as it landed somewhere on Ray. Josh’s back was to me. Ray looked as if he was tired of playing this silly game. He took a couple of cuffs in the mid-section. Then, as if he had had enough, he biffed Josh a good one on the chin, which sent him sprawling on the ground. With this, he said, That’s enough. You can’t even get up now, how can you beat me? He picked up his jacket off the ground, dusted if off and started walking away—my direction. But before he could get out to where I was standing, Josh jumped him from behind. I could see from Ray’s face that this was all he was going to take, at least for today. He swung around hard with his arms flying and knocked Josh down. He put his foot on Josh’s stomach. He wouldn’t let him up until Josh said, Uncle. I was moving out of his way as he came out and he put his hand on my back and said, That’s ok, kid, he asked for it. I was trying to decide whether I should help Josh up when I turned and saw he was on his feet brushing himself off. His eyes were really bad. He was soo angry. All of that righteous indignation was just going to burst right out of him.

He looked worst, when he spotted me. I thought, at first, he was going to slug me, but he just said real mean like, What are you doing here and when?

But, before he